


myrtle ave.

by s1lverwren



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I love that tag, Idiots in Love, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i don't really know how many other ways i have to say it this is just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1lverwren/pseuds/s1lverwren
Summary: "i love you more than i have ever found a way to say to you." - ben foldor five times derek morgan said i love you, and one time he actually said "i love you"
Relationships: Penelope Garcia & Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia/Derek Morgan
Kudos: 3





	myrtle ave.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr saw it first. title comes from the song by mxmtoon by the same name

**_“the most indispensable ingredient of all good home cooking: love for those you are cooking for.” - sophia loren_ **

She was late, oh so late, and to what she wasn’t sure. There was nowhere to go except home, and no one waiting for her except for day old leftovers and a hot shower.

Hot shower would feel amazing. Maybe that’s what she was late for. 

Frigid air filled her lungs as she stepped out of her car, and she immediately hugged her coat even closer to her as some form of protection. Huddling as best as she could from the wind, she made her way to her front door. She fumbled with the house keys because  _ damn _ were her fingers cold, but the feeling that enveloped her as she finally walked in the room made it worth it.

It was warm in her house, as it always was, and she was rushed by the feeling of familiarity as she always did when she came home. It was always nice to have a place to come home to, a place where she could be herself, a place to be free from the burdens of the world she sees everyday.

In the comfort of her own home, fatigue of her long hours began to set in. She yawned as she made her way down the hallways towards the kitchen and had to rub her eyes several times to confirm that the mirage in front of her was not so.

A plate was lying at her normal seat at the table, complete with silverware. It was haphazardly covered by a pot lid, and she could make out her shocked reflection in it. Steam was collecting against it - the cooking was done recently.

She spun around to find the cook, but her search turned up no one. Setting her bags down on the couch as she passed, Penelope let out a content sigh when she caught a figure she knew all too well lying in her bed.

Derek Morgan was to blame.

Picturesque white clouds billowed out from the lid as she lifted it. There was shuffling from her bedroom, and she looked up to find herself raptured in the gaze of brown eyes.

“It’s masala.”

Her favorite.

“I-I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” she stammered as she made her way over to him, hands coming to rest on his upper arm.

He leaned into her palm, blinking away sleep. “I wasn’t. Emily called, said you were working late, and I figured you needed something to eat.”

Her heart sang, and she had to resist the urge to kiss him. There was a time and place to speak the unspoken words between them, but then was not the time.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, babygirl.”

  
  
  


**_“gestures, in love, are incomparably more attractive, effective, and valuable than words.” - francois rabelais_ **

For what it was worth, she really did try to have a good day. She smiled at her coworkers as they passed, and there was no horrible case file to cross her desk, and her outfit was incredible, and her wonderful little angel of a godson was brought in, and and and and

Yet, she still felt so bad. 

Everyone had bad days, it didn’t matter who you were or what you did- and everyone included Penelope Garcia. So, she sat through it, frowning at the bright screens in front of her, thinking that she would rather be anywhere but there.

Derek was working from home, so her safe place was away from her. Of course, she could call him, but he was probably working, and she didn’t really want to bother him just to complain about everything and nothing at the same time.

So she waited and waited, tossing a stress ball from hand to hand, and counted down the moments until she could go home. Penelope prided herself on many things, but her patience when it came to getting off of work did not even make the longlist.

For once, however, the universe took pity on her, by way of one Aaron Hotchner. A stark contrast to her, Hotch had a good day and was sporting a rare smile when he knocked on her door.

“Come in.” Penelope didn’t even try to keep her bad mood from surfacing.

Hotch leaned back onto her desk as he said, “Garcia, why don’t you go home? Almost everyone else has, so there’s no use in keeping you here.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but she fought to keep her voice from expressing her overwhelming relief. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it, but are you sure?”

“Garcia.” He shot her a stern look, but there was no menace behind it. “Take it and leave.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice - well, technically he did, but that's besides the point. Hastily grabbing her things, she bid him a quick goodbye and made her way to the elevator. 

On the car drive home, the bad mood came back, the high of getting off work early quickly wearing off. She had to get gas on her way home, and when she made her way back into her car, she put on her sad playlist. It made her day even worse when she realized that, in her huge library of playlists for every mood, she didn’t have one for whatever she was feeling right then. 

Her parking job was bad, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less. Hot tears rushed to her eyes, and she was fighting a losing battle to keep them at bay. 

“Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry,” she chanted as she made her way up the steps. The mantra did not work, and soon she was sitting on the top stair with mascara running down her cheeks. 

It only made it worse that she didn’t have a reason for being so upset.

Cars flew by on the road in front of her, and she stared at them as they passed. Her eyes bounced from them to the little garden that was growing in the courtyard, searching, scanning, for something to ground her. 

Setting with gazing at the clouds, she leaned back onto the stairs. Her back began to ache immediately at the awkward positioning, but, in that moment, she couldn’t have cared less. 

She realized - as she stared at a cloud that looked strikingly like a duckling - that she was  _ allowed  _ to be upset. She couldn’t beat herself up about being in a bad mood, because that would only make it worse. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t still upset. That doesn’t mean she still didn’t know what was the matter. It just meant that she was  _ allowing  _ herself to be upset.

So she pushed herself off of the concrete steps, tearing her eyes from the fluffy clouds in the sky. Hardening her resolve, she moved towards her door, digging deep into her pockets for her key as she made a half-assed attempt at scrubbing the mascara off her cheek.

The key clicked as she turned it, but Garcia couldn’t make herself open the door, not yet. Inside, there was a very beautiful, loving, joyous man who could probably make her feel better with just one flash of his blinding smile. But, he’d want to talk about what was troubling her so he could fix it. 

That’s who he was. Derek Morgan was a fixer. But Penelope didn’t want to be fixed, because she didn’t even know what was wrong. 

With a huff and a few words of affirmation to herself, she was able to push the door open. 

The sound of dishes clanging and jovial whistling floated down the hall as she shut the door behind her, slipping out of her shoes. She didn’t announce her presence because she didn’t completely trust her voice, but the noises ceased as she made her way to the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe.

The man she loved with her whole heart was elbow deep in her sink, and she mustered a smile at the sight of him covered in suds. The whistling cut off when his eyes slid over towards her, and the smile that he saved just for her dropped from his face.

He took in her frazzled state, eyes slowly moving up her body before catching on her eyes. She barely even noticed him drying his hands and moving away from the sink before she found herself swept into a hug.

Pulling away slightly to look at her with crinkled eyebrows, he placed his hands on either side of her face. Penelope didn’t need to be a mind reader to see the thoughts racing through his head.

“Are you-” he cut himself off, eyes understanding, wordlessly letting his hands drop to clutch hers. 

She was grateful for the lifeline and the fact that he somehow knew that she didn’t want to talk. There was no other person in the world that knew her as well as Derek Morgan did, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She let herself get enveloped by his smell as she leaned her forehead onto his shoulder. Soft kisses were pressed onto her hair, and for the first time that day, a feeling of peace flitted over her. 

She was home and she was safe. 

He stepped back slightly, keeping a tight grip on her fingers. His eyebrows remained pressed together, but there was a small smile on his face.

He pressed a small kiss on her nose, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know.  _ I’ve got you. _

She offered him the slightest of smiles back.  _ I know _ .

Walking backwards and bringing her with him, Derek moved towards the couch. She half-cocked an eyebrow, but she was too emotionally exhausted to do any protesting. 

Her attention was brought to his hands- his oh so beautiful hands. Years of working had hardened and calloused them, but there was a softness in them just for her. She’d spent hours fiddling with his fingers, pressing small kisses to each scar. 

He guided her so she was sitting on the couch, staring up at him in wonder, but he turned away quickly. She watched as he grabbed the blanket that had been lying over a chair and tucked it under his arm. 

The couch cushion dipped beside her and the blanket was thrown over them. The television was turned on and she watched the screen with half lidded eyes as he flipped through movies, finally settling on something that made her smile. 

_ What Happens in Vegas. _ It was her favorite movie, but he  _ despised _ it. He didn’t utter any words but she knew why he put it on.

She buried her head in his chest, and his arm fell over her shoulder. It felt natural, because it was. Slowly, gently, and lovingly, his hands drew words on her back, writing novels that one day she’d love to read.

A single tear slipped out of her eye, but it wasn’t one of sadness. No, she was happy. She’d go through a million more days like hers, just to have another moment like this. As the screen flickered with the movie, she allowed herself to fall asleep, lulled by the presence of her love.

  
  


**_“one person caring about another represents life’s greatest value.” - jim rohn_ **

Penelope had known it would be bad the instant she got the update from JJ. She’d spent years working with him, years loving him, years getting to know him; it was to be expected that she would learn when something would be particularly rough for him.

The texts he sent her were only confirmation of her theory.

_ Hey, when do you think you’ll get back home? I’ll pick up dinner for us <3 _

**I don’t know**

_ Yeah, that’s okay too! I’ll order something when you get here!  _

**ok**

She didn’t take his lack of enthusiasm to heart, because she knew the next morning he’d fill her ears with apologies about how he was taking his frustrations out on her and that she didn’t deserve him. She’d heard it a thousand times over, and her response of shutting him up by kissing him senseless hadn’t deviated once. 

The door opened and closed, dragging her away from her thoughts. Derek shuffled into the room, lugging a bag over his shoulder, and shot her a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He looked worse for wear. The frown lines in his forehead were more pronounced than normal, and the bags under his eyes told stories of sleepless nights. His hands shook ever so slightly as he placed his bags down. 

Her arms engulfed him in an instant.

Words were murmured into his neck as she hung onto his frame as if her life depended on it, but his arms hovered over her back. He almost seemed afraid to touch her. 

“My love,” she said, pulling back to look him in his eyes, “let me help you. I’ll-I’ll heat up some food, and you can talk to me, and then you can soak in the tub until your gorgeous chocolate skin is all pruned, and-”

“Penelope.” Her name practically fell out of his mouth as he leaned down to place his forehead on hers. 

She stared at him, and she knew the concern she had for him was shining in her eyes. “Hi.”

His muscles tensed under her hands as she slid them down from his face to his shoulders, but they soon relaxed as she began to pepper small kisses over them. She stopped when she came to the crook of his neck, choosing to bury her nose into it.

“Let me take care of you, honey,” she said, her words only slightly muffled by his skin. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was a heavy sigh, and her face was gently guided to look at his. His eyes glistened with tears but she knew he wouldn’t let them fall.

“Hey. Please,” she pleaded.

“Can I just-” his voice was rough and he had to take a moment to compose it. “Can I just be there for  _ you  _ right now?”

Derek Morgan, always the selfless one. Because even at his lowest points, he would always,  _ always _ be looking for a way to make someone feel better. That’s what made him the man he was.

She gave him a wistful smile and her eyes mirrored his own. As much as she wanted to, as much as she wanted to take care of him, she knew she couldn’t say no to him - not when it came to him needing something as much as he needed a distraction.

“Okay.”

Stepping back with one final kiss to his collarbone, she gave him another smile and offered her hands out. 

“I am yours to pamper.”

And then there was joy in his eyes.

  
  


**_“we are making photographs to understand what our lives mean to us” - ralph hattersley_ **

“Derek, sugar, can you fill out these forms? Hotch needs them for-” she interrupted herself when she lifted her eyes away from the file to find that she was speaking to an empty office. 

She’d always liked the office - and it wasn’t just because of her involvement in its conception. Something about it just reeked of Derek Morgan, which is a scent she would gladly bathe in for the rest of her life. 

Maybe it was the pieces of him she could find in all the nooks and crannies of the room. The signed football with player names encased in glass. The frame containing the piece of flooring from the first house he flipped. His law degree.

But her favorite thing about his office - barring him - was his photo wall. Taking a little something from her, he’d spent quite some time decorating his office with things he loved, things to distract him from the horrors of the world. 

They’d spent several nights together going through old belongings and keepsakes of his, her head leaning onto his shoulder as he told her fond stories of each one. Occasionally, she’d find a baby picture of him, and he’d try to snatch it away, but she’d hold it just out of his reach, giggling maniacally. 

She’d be hard-pressed to find a happier memory.

Placing the files on his desk and scribbling a note onto them, she turned towards the photo collage, taking in the people that Derek loved.

Her eyes were first caught on the beaming smile he wore in a photo with his mother. Both his arms were thrown around her, and she was clutching his forearms. They were slightly blurry, almost as if he was rocking her, and the photographer caught them in the exact moment, forever capturing their joy.

Then her sight slid to the grainy photo next to it. 

There was just as much love in this one, but the Morgan she saw was much younger. Much  _ much  _ younger. He was clutching a football that almost as big as he was and gazing adoringly at his father, who returned the look. Her heart panged slightly, but at the same time, it fluttered at the thought that Derek was able to look at this everyday. 

The next shot looked strikingly familiar. It wasn’t a photo she recognized, but it _ was  _ one of her. She almost seemed as if she was glowing with happiness.

So, she took a step back and surveyed the entire collage. Derek had obviously been adding to it without her noticing. There were many pictures she didn’t recognize, some of others, but most of her. 

There were selfies, and pictures that it was very clear that JJ had taken, and pictures that he must have taken. But a rush of emotions overwhelmed her as she stared at the wall of people  _ he _ considered important enough to distract him from their job.

And she just was struck by how many times she was up there.

  
  


**_“for me, small gestures mean a lot precisely because they are small. they do not shout, "look at me" - they simply offer love, quietly”_ **

She had taken much longer getting home than she normally would. Derek was stuck at home, sick with the flu, and the traffic was  _ awful _ . Her temples had begun a slow and persistent ache as she sat staring at the trunk of a Subaru, willing herself to be home. 

Of course, it hadn’t worked, but it had caused her headache to worsen.

The stop at Starbucks to grab something hot to soothe both of their aches and pains was in-and-out. Even with the boost of caffeine adding the slightest of spring to her step, it seemed far too late that she was ascending the steps to her home-  _ their  _ home. 

It had been five months, and she still wasn’t used to the fact that she was still in a stable relationship with the man of her dreams, sharing a cozy apartment that they'd both fixed up. Granted, he’d done a lot more of the heavy lifting than she had, but it was at his insistence.

It was her favorite place in the world. A perfect mixture of the two of them, she had never felt more at home - his arms wrapped around her in the house they created. 

Because it was the weekend and she had spent her free time of the week before tending to a sick man, said home was not as sparkling clean as she would have liked. As she swung the door open with her hip, clutching the two coffees in her hands, she braced herself for the mess.

There was no mess.

There was no laundry lying in the middle of the hallway that she had left when Hotch called her in for an emergency meeting. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, just sparkling ones next to it. There were no pairs of shoes strewn across the floor, no coats thrown haphazardly over various furnitures. If she looked hard enough, she would almost say the floor was shining, as if it had been freshly polished.

It was clean.

Wondering if the opposite of a tornado had swept through her home, she slipped her shoes off, taking extra time to line them up with the newly organized ones. It was silent in the home, the only noise in her ears the occasional rush of a car on the road.

She opened her mouth to call out her arrival, but the words stopped short as she took in the sight of her couch.

Derek was stretched across the sofa, eyes covered by the crook of his elbow. One foot was propped up on the arm of it, the other was hanging off the edge. She smiled at the sight, he was much too tall to lay on the couch.

The vacuum was right next to him, as was a still open bottle of NyQuil. He must have been tired, as it looked like he had practically collapsed in the middle of cleaning. 

She almost considered not waking him, to let him rest unbothered. But then she took in his position one more time and the uncomfortable way his head was leaning against the sofa arm, and decided to move him.

Moving his arm away, he laid a gentle hand against his cheek and almost retracted at the heat that rolled off of it. His fever had gotten worse, she realized with a frown.

“Derek,” she whispered, stroking his cheek slightly to wake him. He showed no signs of returning to consciousness, so she repeated herself a little louder.

His eyes cracked open a sliver, enough for her to see how bloodshot they were. He waggled his eyebrows slightly as a form of greeting.

“Feeling any better?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew what the answer would be.

His eyes shut again, but he breathed a response, just barely loud enough for her to hear, “No. M’ head hurs’ like a bitch.”

She gave him a light smile as a response, moving her fingers so they cradled the back of his head. “Come on,” she urged. “Go lay down on the bed.”

There was a very slow shuffle before his figure was sitting up on the couch. She pulled his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, not entirely trusting his body to be at full strength. She half-led, half-carried him to the bedroom, his head leaning onto hers.

“Get comfortable,” she told him after he made it into the bed. “I’m going to get you some water. Go back to sleep.”

His response was making a small noise that she just barely heard as she padded out of the room. She filled a water bottle with ice and water, deciding against grabbing him any food, because he hadn’t been able to keep any down yet.

After a little deliberation, she pulled a light blanket from the closet to throw over him as she passed, hoping he would fall asleep before it got to be too heavy. He had buried his head into the pillows, laying on his side with one hand under his head. 

She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. He must have really tired himself out if he fell asleep in the short time she was gone. Careful to keep her steps light, she made her way to his side. 

“You’re too good to me.”

Penelope laughed and placed his water bottle on the nightstand. So he wasn’t asleep. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Tha’s why I cleaned up, ‘cause you were too busy takin’ care of me.”

His eyes were barely open, and he only spoke through exhales. She wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up the next morning with no memory of the interaction.

“Well,” she planted a kiss on his still burning forehead, “you didn’t have to. It’s my week for clean-up duty.”

“Had’ta...pay back.” were the words he pushed out before he fell back into the sandman’s embrace.

  
  


**_“when i tell you i love you, i am not telling you out of habit, i am reminding you that you are my life.”_ **

There was a small post-it note on her computer screen, near identical to the dozen she had in her dress pocket. The handwriting was large and familiar and etched with love that she matched threefold.

_ I hope the drive in was okay and that you don’t kill me for putting this on your screen.  _

It started that morning, when she had woken up to an empty bed. She had lazily thrown her arm out, expecting to connect with a warm and solid body. Instead, she had received the crinkle of paper, and a note that read  _ Good morning, sleeping beauty. _ Her eyebrows had raised amusedly, and she had expected to find him in the kitchen, smirking as he leaned against the counter.

There had just been another note.

Messages were everywhere. There was one on her coffee cup and one on her steering wheel. There was one on her keys and one on her coat. There was one on her badge. There was even one on Hotch’s desk.

Each one displayed his handwriting, a small joke or a note to not miss her exit. Each one had a small heart in the corner.

She walked with a spring in her step, scanning the halls for the man behind all the words, but he was nowhere to be found. She asked the team, but they were all coy about his location - “around” and “I’m sure you’ll find him” - and they all seemed very happy.

There were bright sunflowers on her desk that she did not recognize, two post-it notes stuck to one of them.

_ Mom told me about how you sent her flowers and cookies when she got sick last year. She talked about how if I didn’t marry you soon, she’d disown me. She talked about how you called her every week with updates on me _

_ If I had a ring on me, I would have proposed to you right then _

She mouthed the words silently. The heart on the notes were a little larger than the other ones. She couldn’t help but wish that he had acted on those thoughts. She couldn’t help but wish that he would propose to her now.

JJ rapped on her door, and she tore her thoughts from the flowers and the message he had scrawled. The blonde wordlessly handed her a file, shooting her an excited smile that didn’t quite seem to match the mood that normally came with the files.

Everyone seemed to know something Penelope didn’t.

Flipping the manila folder open, she was shocked to not find official business, but a collage of herself and Derek. They were smiling in every one, shooting loving looks at each other. A note accompanied

_ Pick me up my usual? _

Shortly after they’d begun dating, their visits to a local pizza parlor had begun to increase. He loved it because they “did pizza correctly.” And she loved it because of the sparkle in his eye that came to when they entered the building. 

It was the only place - that wasn’t the coffee place in their building - that he had a regular order. So, with a rapidly beating heart and a bright smile, Penelope made her way to it. 

She was proud to say that her hands only shook a little bit as she put the car in park in front of the pizza place. It looked unassuming, but that didn’t calm her nerves in the slightest.

Even though her thoughts desperately drifted towards it, she couldn’t yet let herself believe that this would lead to a beautiful man on one knee. But there was something in her that told her that this was going to be her last stop for the day.

The bell clanged as she pushed the door open and eyes shot toward her, but none were the ones she wanted to see at that moment. 

“Penelope,” the manager called from behind the counter, covered in flour and sporting a knowing smile.She dug into her pockets and handed over a flour smudged note.

_ Out back. _

Behind the building was a small community garden. The two of them had spent hours of their life on the bench, planting flowers, working in it. They even had a small plaque dedicated to them because of all the hard work they had spent on it.

It was a home away from home, and although Garcia had damn near memorized every inch of it, there was one thing different about it this time.

In the middle of the garden, surrounded by sunflowers, was the kneeling form of Derek.

She froze in her place. Every muscle screamed to run to him, but she could not move. He offered her a smile, and behind his eyes, she could see his mind running at a million miles a minute.

Forcing her legs to move towards him, small teardrops began to slip from her eyes, no matter how much she willed them to stay at bay. 

This was happening.

She stopped a few feet away from him, and they stared at each other. Neither said a word, and they were almost at a standstill until she saw him take a deep breath and began to move for his pocket.

This was  _ really _ happening.

Through her tears, she could see Derek fishing in his pocket and pulling out a small object. She leaned her head back to quell her tears and looked back down to realize he was holding a ring box with a sticky note that had her name scrawled on it.

Realizations slammed into her like a freight train, and the tears came rushing back. Joy rose in her throat, and it was all she could do to remain standing at the blinding smile he gave her.

She took the note that said her name and placed it over her heart. It very quickly fell off but she didn’t notice - she was far too enamored with the kneeling man in front of her.

“I spent a lot of time trying to figure out a way to do this, figure out exactly how to express everything I feel for you. But then I realized. I don’t have to because you know - because you do too.”

She nodded, tears flying out of her eyes as she did so. Taking several steps so she was closer to him, she gazed down at him as he continued with his speech.

“I mean, how do you explain something that has never existed before? How do you explain something that never will again? Because that’s our love, Penelope. Its…” he paused, searching for the right words, so she offered something for him, her voice wobbly with unshed tears.

“Ours.”

His eyes swam with love, gratefulness, and emotion at her statement. “It’s ours,” he confirmed. “I’ve loved you since the day I saw you. It took us forever to get to this point, dancing around each other in choreography only we learned, only we perfected. But it was all worth it, babygirl.

“There is no one else in this world that I would rather wake up next to. There is no else in this world that I would share my darkest secrets with. There is no one else who I would rather be with me in every step of the way in my life

“I think I’ve always known I would end up here, down on one knee, proposing to the love of my life - of all my lives, if there were more. I just didn’t know it would be to you. You caught me by storm, you swept me into your life, you entangled me in your web.

“And, now I’m going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me, so I can keep telling you these truths for every day of it.”

He opened the box, still kneeling, to reveal yet another post-it note.

_ Will you marry me? _

The closest she’d been to describing her feelings in the moment was that her heart exploded in happiness. Penelope nodded quickly, and before Derek was able to hold her hand to slide the ring onto her finger, she had him wrapped tightly in the tightest of embraces - one that he returned with just as much fervor.

Even though he had managed to say it everyday since they’d met, there was only one thing he needed to say at that moment. 

“I love you.”


End file.
